


burning just right

by maraudersourwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dean is Not Oblivious, Dean is a Good Friend, Dean is a Sweetheart, Fluff and Crack, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Magical Accidents, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Seamus Tries Really Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 13:52:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13342602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersourwolf/pseuds/maraudersourwolf
Summary: He can swear that he didn’t know what really happened. He was just thinking about Dean. That wasn’t any news.Now, the fire.That was totally new.





	burning just right

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta’d, messy, yada yada.   
> Y’know the drill.
> 
> Before any of you ask me, I don’t remember where I read about grass being meaning of homosexual love in flower language. So I don’t know if it’s real or just bullshit. Bite me.   
> Edit: ACTUALLY IT’S NOT BULLSHIT. THANKS CARA ♥
> 
> I also know that “Set fire to the rain” by Adele its not chronologically accurate, but my beautiful Cara had the amazing idea after one of my totally delusional puns and I decided to take my writer’s licence here.   
> You can’t lie to me, you all wanted Ron singing that.   
> You fucking welcome, guys.
> 
> J, my broest bro, you fucker.   
> You ask and you shall recieve.

 

He can swear that he didn’t know what really happened. He was just thinking about Dean. That wasn’t any news.

Now, the fire.

_That_  was totally new.

  
*  
  


“ _ **AGUAMENTI!**_ ”

What was like a bucket of water spilled from the tip of his wand, extinguished the little tongue of fire that appeared at the bottom of Dean’s bed out of nowhere, while everyone was sleeping. He could hear his own heart trobbing in his ears. Panic receding a bit.

He looked up and his eyes landed on a soaked Dean, now fully awake and gaping at him. Seamus winced, feeling the guilt start to consume his insides bit by bit.

“Why did you–”

“Yer bed was on fire”

Sort of.

Dean didn’t need to know the details.

Like exactly  _why_  it was on fire in the first place.

Dean sighed and darted his eyes to the bed, now completely soaked. Same as himself. He looked up again and catched Seamus gaze, looking back at him with puppy eyes.

“I’ll sleep with you tonight. It’s just fair.”

It was.

Seamus wasn’t going to say no.  
  


*  
  


##  _**BOOM!** _

Everyone jumped out of sleep quickly. Memories of the war flooding their minds. Seamus could hear Harry repeat non-stop  _he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead_. Ron was at his side already, drawing soothing circles on his back. A quick glance around showed Neville still like a statue, his eyes looking nowhere but far away in memories.

And there was Dean.

Seamus scrambled out of bed as quickly as possible. Sheets tangled at his feets making him fall hard into the wooden floor. He kicked them out, reaching for his best friend that was at the end of his own bed, knees drawn closer to his chest, a mess of ragged breaths and trembling hands. Seamus’ small body wrapped Dean into a hug, trying to cover him as much as possible.

“Mate, it’s alright. ‘M here. No one’s going to take ye,  _‘m here_.”

Dean’s pillow was the one that exploded.

Feathers covered the majority of the sheets, some of them dancing in the air before falling into the floor.

Dean hands clutched the front of Seamus’ pajama shirt with white knuckles, trying to pull him even closer. Seamus swallowed hard and started petting his hair. He was lost and scared. Dean felt fragile in his arms and he just wanted to get the pieces back together.

“Wanna share my bed? I’ll try not to kick ye”

Dean nodded slowly.

Seamus got up and took one of Dean’s trembling hands, guiding him in secure and slow movements. He climbled into bed first, dragging Dean with him. Seamus draped the covers over both of them, tugging Dean to his chest and hugging him close once again.

“ _Shay_ ,” Dean’s cracked and pleading voice made his inside twist painfully.

“I’ll protect ye, ‘m not leaving. ‘M here, Dean, nobody will hurt ye,” Seamus caressed Dean’s back even after his breathing evened and his limbs relaxed, clearly sleeping. Under his breath, he kept mumbling  _‘m here, ‘m here_.

Assuring Dean in his slumber, Seamus’ didn’t sleep at all.

  
*  
  


“Things are getting out of control,” Seamus looked up and was met by red hair and blue eyes with a hint of too many freckles. “Too bloody much out of control. Aren’t you going to do something?”

“Tell ye to mind yer bloody bussiness,” he back down to his Potion’s homework when a hand slapped the table and made the whole library go silent. Seamus didn’t look up. He sighed, resigned. “What do ye want me to do, Ron?”

“Fix it. Control yourself. I don’t bloody know, just stop  _this._ ”

Seamus bit the tip of his tongue trying not to answer. He understood. It was frustrating. Things getting burned, things exploding. This wasn’t Ron talking but his anger and the lack of sleep combined. Seamus wanted to tell him that there wasn’t anything to fix and that he couldn’t control what was happening. That he was trying. And failing. But he kept  _trying_.

Ron should understand, he shouldn’t–

“Seamus, we get it. We know Slughorn can get pretty intense, but you need to relax a bit, mate. We can help you with Potions or ask Hermione, right Ron?,” both Ron and Seamus looked at Harry completely surprised. Then looked one another with the same amount of incredulity, just to look back at Harry with consternation written on their faces. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“How did ye survived all this years, mate?”

Ron snorted.  
  


*  
  


“SEAMUS, FOR MERLIN’S LEFT BALL WHAT’S  _WRONG_ WITH  _YOU_?”

Many things.

Mostly the fact that his magic still wasn’t fully controlled even if they were almost adults and things exploded or got on fire just because. Like now it was Dean’s bed sheets.

Seamus shrugged coyly and ducked his face, avoiding Ron’s angrily red one.

“YOU NEED TO GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!,” Ron started to walk towards him, stomping down in every new step.

Seamus winced and closed his eyes, expecting the inevitable punch. Expecting.  _Expecting._  Expecting? He opened his eyes slowly. Dean was now in front of him, facing Ron.

“Calm  _your_  shit down, Weasley”

“BUT HE SET FIRE–”

“My sheets. That was  _my_  bloody bed. So I’ll be the one sorting it out, _thank you very much_ ”

Ron looked over Dean’s shoulder at Seamus and grunted something under his breath before storming out of the dorm. Harry apologetic smile was the last they saw before the room got empty.

The smell of burned fabric filled Seamus’ nose and made him gag. “’M sorry, ye can be angry at me–”

“Oi mate, y’know what I should do?,” Dean turned around and smiled at him. Like if Seamus never did something such as almost burn down the room. Seamus sallowed the knot in his throat. “I should sleep with you until I get a change of sheets.” 

“Mate, ye don’t–”

“Man, I don’t get why Ron got so worked up,” Dean scratched the back of his head, looking back at his bed. “I mean, those sheets were pretty hideous if you ask me. Maybe I’ll get some sweet ones now! Quidditch ones. Do you think McGonagall will indulge me?”

Seamus smiled softly. “Desperate situations require desperate measures.”

Dean smile grew, before he started to ramble about classes and homework. Seamus got a matching smile on his face.  
  


*  
  


A hand landed gently on his shoulder but it didn’t had the familiar warmth that he was so used to. He looked up just to see Neville’s soft smile. Seamus was pretty sure he learned that gesture from Luna. Or that the war took from the second prophecy boy more than just hours of sleep and the feeling of safety. Neville’s old smiles were goofier, funnier. This one was led with maturity and care.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

Seamus shaked his head, taking his eyes off from him, gaze back down to the ground. He teared out blades of grass just to let them fall back down, his trousers full of them.

“Are ye gonna ask me to stop?,” Seamus bit his lip feeling more brittle than ever.

“You seem pretty into mowing the place with your hands”

Seamus huffed, “I meant ‘bout me burning things in our room”

“That’s Ron’s doing, not mine. I don’t mind thing exploding or getting burnt, I got used to that the first year,” Neville looked at Seamus smiling tightly, but Seamus was purposefully avoiding to stare back. “As long as my bed keeps being safe, I’m fine with it.”

Seamus ogled at him once again and squinted his eyes. That was a trick, if he knew one. This wasn’t how Neville was. Not really. He wasn’t non-chalant about bad things happening to his friends. He wasn’t demanding either, but–

“Ye’re lying, ye don’t feel like that,” Seamus trew a bunch of grass blades to him, making Neville shrug and laugh.

“Takes a liar to know one, right?,” the soft smile was back there but his eyes bared into Seamus’ soul. Neville pointed at the mess over Seamus’ lap, making him focus on it. “Grass. It means  _homosexual love_ ,” Seamus could hear himself gasp. “Even if you tear every blade, it’s not going to disappear. You just have to face it like a grown up, stop waiting for things to blow on your face”

Before Seamus could even think of a proper response at the bad joke, Neville had already left. He took one of the grass blades laying on himself between his fingers and watched it in detail. So green, so plain. And yet here he was.

This wasn’t child’s play either.  
  
*

Seamus is going to his room to do some reading when he hears Ron singing inside with all the strenght his lungs could muster. Seamus trained his hearing on it to catch what it was.

“I set FIIIIIRRRREEEEE to the BEEEEEEDDDD, watched it BUUUUURRRRNNNN as I snogged your FAAAAAACEEEE,” pretty much followed by a snort and the unmistakable Weasley’s laughter. 

Seamus decides that today is a good day to read outside.  
  


*  
  


“Ye can sleep in my bed,” Seamus cleared his voice, feeling too many emotions closing his throat. “If ye don’t mind sharing again.”

“I don’t–,” Dean’s voice sounded so weak compared to the usual happy way he talked. “You don’t need to do that, it’s not your fault, Shay”

Except it was.

Even if Dean opted for not thinking that way.

“Are ye kidding?,” Seamus breathed out unable to believe it. “Mate, yer bloody bed got on fire. What are ye gonna do, sleep between charred sheets and charcoal?,” Seamus scrunched his nose in distaste at the idea and Dean snorted, possibly at his face.

“I can sleep in the common room or ask McGonagall to–”

“Dean, don’t make me drag ye here,” he knew he wasn’t really as threatening as he wanted to be but it was worth the try. “Come on.”

Dean smiled fondly and walked towards Seamus, who was hanging open the sheets for him to get in. Once he did, Seamus mumbled a good night and turned to his side, leaving Dean at his back.

He sighed, doomed over what he was feeling. This was going to be a long night.  
  


*  
  


The random fires and explotions suddenly stopped.

None of his roomates seemed to care, the frustration long gone. Neville kept sending metaphorical questions on Seamus’ way, while Ron kept nudging his side harder each day. Harry still didn’t know.

Dean either.

Seamus is terrified he’s gonna be the next thing to explode.

  
*  
  


Seamus grunted at the same time that the arm drapped along his waist tugged him closer. He was sweating like crazy. It was too hot, and not in the funny way. Seamus’ sleepy hands swatted the arm around him, trying to set himself free and failing.

“Gerroff, ‘m too hot”

Dean mumbled something intelligible behind him, tightening the hold on him. Seamus was sure that there wasn’t any space left between the two of them and he refused to melt in there. He tried to swat Dean away once again but failed once again too. The breathing in his neck was starting to tickle. He rolled until he was face to face with Dean. Or still-sleepy-Dean. His heart started to pound quicker but that wasn’t any news by now.

Seamus softly headbutted Dean, who grunted a very colorful line of insults.

Maybe it wasn’t as soft as he thought.

Meh.

“If ye didn’t want me to hit ye, ye should gerroof,” Dean squinted his sleepy eyes at him and Seamus tried to keep his face as normal as possible. “Yer bed is right there”

It have been  _there_  since long ago, a perfectly new bed. But Dean avoided sleeping in it like the plague. When night time came and the curfew was up, he would hop on Seamus’ bed without questioning and just snuggle on what was supposed to be  _his side_. He already had a fucking side of the bed, Merlin help him.

Seamus tried to push Dean out of the bed, making the other boy giggle and somehow hold him firmer than before.

“You’re going to make us fall,  _Shay_ ,” Seamus’ stomach flip-floped at the fond way in wich Dean’s sleepy voice called his nickname.

“Go to yer bed then”

“But you don’t really want me to go,” Seamus answer died at the sight of Dean’s brown ones looking right through him. Neither his face nor his eyes, but his bare soul. There was a spark in there of something that Seamus couldn’t decipher and was too scared to even try. “My bed getting on fire, my pillow exploding, it was always just my bed. It was pretty subtle, but–”

Seamus swallowed thickly feeling guilt pool down on his chest. Just for a brief moment. Chapped lips brushed softly against Seamus’ ones. The air leaves his lungs so quickly that he felt like his head is the next thing going to explode.

“– I’m pretty sure I cracked the code, right?,” Dean smiled at him, closer than ever and at the same time too far away. 

Morning breath can be damned. 

Seamus trew himself at Dean, clashing their mouths together in a kiss with too much smile to be proper. When air got necessary, they just kept giving each other little pecks on the lips. Swelling with happiness.

Seamus was pretty sure his mom once told him real love wasn’t butterflies but fireworks.

And he felt them all.  
  


*

It hit Seamus later how right he was to be scared. After all, every new kiss made little explosions happen inside. It didn’t hurt, there wasn’t pain.

Dean smiled at him from across the bed, slowly waking up. Seamus smiled dumbly at him, like every morning.

Instead, it burned  _just right_.


End file.
